


God-Shattering Star

by ARASHINARUKAMISWIFE



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, revue starlight au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:00:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22012975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ARASHINARUKAMISWIFE/pseuds/ARASHINARUKAMISWIFE
Summary: There was a surprise audition.
Relationships: Dorothea Arnault & Edelgard von Hresvelg, Edelgard von Hresvelg/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 2
Kudos: 32





	God-Shattering Star

**Author's Note:**

> a secret santa gift for a friend of mine!

Lady Seiros had a grotesque way of showing amusement. Her pale, porcelain face split by a mouth that had too many, too sharp teeth. Her lips were a permanent stain of crimson, threatening to spill down her chin like blood. Her smile - her facsimile of one - was an empty, vacant placeholder.  
Edelgard despised this woman. 

_(“I cannot influence the outcome of the Revue,” she said, once Edelgard had taken her bow, “but I see potential in you, Ms. Hresvelg. Nurture it.”_

_Edelgard fought the urge to put her axe through the woman’s head. Instead, she spat in her face.)_

There was a surprise audition. 

Dorothea gently rocked Edelgard awake, putting a blanket around her shoulders and helping her to her feet. 

“What’s going on?” Edelgard whispered. Sleep still clung to her, making her voice rough and movements lethargic. 

“I don’t know, Edie,” Dorothea said, “but Petra said something was happening on the stage.” Her fingers combed gently through Edelgards tangled hair, easing the knots into a manageable braid. “She said there’s someone new.”

Edelgard shook her head. “There can’t be anyone new,” she yawned. Every part was accounted for - five actors for five parts. A new actor would mean that someone would lose a part in the Revue. “Did Petra say who it was?”

Dorothea shook her head. Her curls, carefully pinned away from her face, came loose. Some stray hairs got stuck in the face mask that she had forgotten to take off before bed. 

The elevator ride to the stage was tense. Edelgard, now more alert, strained her ears for the tell-tale signs of an audition - singing, the clash of metal, the spark and crash of magic. She fought the itch in her knees to bounce, pace, _anything_ to reign in the wave of nervous energy that washed over her. 

It was the woman’s fault. It had to be. She was the one that organized the auditions, that picked the participants. She pulled the strings discreetly, always one ear to the ground for any new way to throw a wrench in the Revue. This new participant had to be someone that the woman championed - that was the only logical reason for the late entry. 

“Impartial, my ass,” Edelgard hissed. 

It was the woman. Green hair, strong physique, dancing around the stage like she was born to be there. The itch in Edelgard’s knees spread over her skin like she was on fire, stealing the breath from her lungs. Her sword whistled through the air, slicing through each one of Leonie’s arrows with ease. 

“Petra,” Dorothea said, whispering over Edelgard’s head. “Who is that?” 

Petra shrugged. “Lady Seiros called her Byleth. I have never seen her before.” Edelgard watched as Petra pointed to the stage, then above it, to where the woman was watching the audition from a balcony. Even from where they were standing, the woman’s deep scowl was visible. 

“What are the odds that she didn’t plan this?” Dorothea’s hand came up to Edelgard’s shoulder. 

“Not likely,” she said, “and we _have_ seen her before.” At Petra’s confused glance, Edelgard whispered, “Our first performance of the Revue. She was sitting in the first row. She… gave me a rose.” 

_(It was a large rose, with white splotches on the petals. A note was tied to the stem._

_Edelgard, still breathless from her performance, nearly dropped the flower when Byleth handed it to her. “Thank you,” she breathed.  
Byleth didn’t say anything. A small, almost nervous, smile lifted her lips. _

_And then she walked away.)_

The stage came crashing down around Edelgard. Wooden stars, stage lights, and curtains pelted the already battered stage, silver arrows embedded in each.

“Stop _hiding_ , Mercedes,” Edelgard called, narrowly avoiding a stray plank of wood. As she tried to right herself, a sharp tug on her neck stole the air from her lungs. The plank - roughly the size of Edelgard herself - had landed on the edge of her cape, firmly pinning it to the stage. She tugged at it frantically, all but feeling Mercede’s arrows on her. 

Mercedes’ soft singing had grown distant, hard to pinpoint over her steadfast destruction of the stage. Edelgard strained to hear her - her voice, the gentle whisper of her cape, her arrows being knocked and aimed. 

Edelgard struggled with the buttons at her neck. Just one arm, and she could - 

“Do you wish to forfeit the Revue?”

Edelgard froze. The condescending voice of Lady Seiros cut through the haze of panic that Edelgard had found herself in, allowing her a moment of clarity. She could hear something faint behind her; a gentle, melodic humming from the catwalk. 

“Of course not,” she called back, and heaved her axe at the rafters. _Sorry, Mercy._

“Do you remember me?”

Edelgard almost missed her cue. Byleth was speaking to her - something she hadn’t done to anyone since she joined the Revue. Her voice was raspy, low in a way that contrasted the image that Edelgard had constructed of her. 

Byleth was strong. She had been trained, and well at that, and Edelgard admired the sheer ease with which she moved through each dance they were presented with. She was one of the few women in the room that could lift any of the others without much strain (a thought that made Edelgard flush). Most importantly, she was ruthless. She had a sense of awareness that made her infinitely more dangerous than any of the others, easily catapulting her up the ranks as the auditions continued. 

Strong, dangerous, ruthless. This was the type of person Edelgard had become accustomed to. This was the type of person Edelgard was becoming. These people were not soft, insecure. 

_Do you remember me?_

Edelgard tripped as she moved to her cue. A small stumble - nearly imperceptible - but the slight shift brought her closer to Byleth. Her face, now level with Byleth’s chest, began to heat. 

“How could I forget?”

Edelgard’s axe shot from the dark of the stage, nearly clipping Byleth’s arm. As Byleth dodged, she lunged for her, knife unsheathed and poised for Byleth’s neck. Two quick cuts, one if she was lucky - two gold cords that separated Edelgard from victory. From ending the cycle of despair that Lady Seiros had created. Three months of pain, of watching her friends and loved ones struggle to get out of bed every morning. 

It ended _here._

“There can be no victory unless I defeat you, Byleth Eisner.” 

Here, in Edelgard’s arms, Byleth looked calm. What had been fierce determination had become a gentle smile, almost encouraging. She reclined her head and leaned back in Edelgard’s hold, a perfect dip that left the cords of her cloak unobstructed. Edelgard could see a bruise beginning to blossom on the corner of her jaw. 

Byleth closed her eyes. “Then so be it, Edelgard von Hresvelg,” she whispered. 

Edelgard could feel it. The thrum in her blood that whispered for anarchy. This is not how it ends. This is not how you win. 

The blade in her hand was heavy, but cut through the air with ease. It seemed anticlimactic, in a sense, to see that Lady Seiros bled. A silence fell over the auditorium, broken only by the sound of Lady Seiros falling to her knees. 

Byleth’s eyes shot open. Edelgard wasn’t nearly as strong as her, and a wayward shift in Byleth’s stance sent them both sprawling to the ground. The largest smile Byleth had ever given her broke her sweat-soaked face. 

“You did it,” she breathed. 

Edelgard’s heart pounded in her chest. “Did you ever doubt me?” 

_(Byleth’s lips were chapped. She tasted like the strawberry cake Dorothea had smuggled her before bed, and Edelgard never wanted to let go.)_


End file.
